The Christmas Wishing Tree: An Eternity Springs Novel

by Emily March

  “You can wrap the ribbon around it.”

  After much debate on what constituted “natural” as far as tree trimmings went, they’d decided that one hundred percent cotton ribbon counted. Jenna had made one loop around the tree with the red ribbon when Riley threw her a curve ball. “I don’t believe in Santa anymore.”

  The ribbon spool slipped from her hand and landed in the snow. Her heart twisted. He was eight years old. She’d expected this subject might come up this Christmas, but she wasn’t ready! “I don’t know . . . um . . .”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend. I know that you’re the one who buys the Santa presents and puts them under the tree. I know you fill my stocking. Santa doesn’t come down the chimney, and he doesn’t answer the telephone when somebody calls North-Pole-One.”

  Jenna started to reach for him, but his body language shouted, Stay away.

  “Oh, Reilly.” Jenna scooped the ribbon spool up off the ground and tried to recall all the parenting advice she’d read on this subject as she made another loop. “It’s true that I’m the person who puts Santa gifts under the tree, but that doesn’t make me Santa. It also doesn’t mean that Santa doesn’t exist. Santa does a really important job because he teaches children a really important lesson. He teaches them how to have faith in something that they can’t see or touch. He teaches them to believe, and that is something important to have as you grow up.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “Uh-huh. It’s like the Christmas wishing tree. Santa is a symbol. The real magic of Christmas isn’t wishes or reindeer. The real magic of Christmas is . . . are you about done with the ribbon? I’m ready to hang my special ornament.”

  Jenna gave her head a little shake, glanced at the pile of decorations on the ground, and saw that while she’d been occupied with one of the traumas of parenthood, her son had decorated his tree. “Okay. Sorry.”

  She made one final circuit, then stepped back and surveyed the tree. Darned if he hadn’t balanced his decorations in such a way that the crooked little Charlie Brown tree stood a little straighter.

  Reilly reached into his backpack, but the ornament he hung on the tree was not the pinecone snowman he’d made the previous day, but a little wooden boat.

  “Reilly?”

  “Don’t ask, Mom. You know the rules.”

  “Okay. I won’t. Only . . . finish what you were going to say. What’s the real magic of Christmas?”

  “Geez, Mom. Don’t you know anything? It’s love. The real magic of Christmas is love.”

  After his father mentioned the upcoming sleigh ride during one of their calls, Devin planned his surprise with the precision of a battlefield general and kept knowledge of it strictly need-to-know.

  It was the first Saturday in December and “any time now” was the phrase of the week. In a half dozen houses across the small mountain town, mothers-to-be couldn’t sleep—their backs hurt, and they had heartburn, swollen feet, and moods that swung from rage to tears to joy to despair on the basis of . . . well, anything. These were a half-dozen women who wanted to not be pregnant NOW.

  And a half-dozen fathers-to-be who dearly loved their wives but whose nerves were frayed to the point of breaking. Something had to give.

  Enter, Santa Claus.

  The first salvo was a mano-a-mano confab to be held over cookies and milk at Fresh. Cam delivered the goods shortly after the bakery closed at noon. “Where’s Michael, Mr. Murphy?” Reilly said when he spied the table set for two. “I thought he was going to be here.”

  “Well, I tricked you, Reilly. I said my son is waiting for you.”

  “He meant me,” Devin said, stepping into the room. Reilly folded his arms and frowned at Devin.

  “Good luck,” Cam said as he tipped an imaginary hat and left the room.

  Now that the moment was upon him, Devin was a little nervous. “Would you sit down and share some cookies and milk with me?”

  It appeared to be touch and go for a moment, but eventually, Reilly shuffled over to the table and took a seat. He didn’t touch his snack.

  Devin forged ahead. “Before we dive into this, I need to say something flat out so that there is no ambiguity. I love you, Reilly. I love your mother. I want us to be a family. I want to be your dad and to be your mother’s husband. That’s the bottom line.”

  Reilly dipped his head, but not before Devin caught the sheen of sudden tears in his eyes. Was that a hopeful sign or a problem? He wasn’t sure.

  So he hurried on. “Everything else is open for negotiation. That’s why I invited you here today. I have a proposal to make, man to man.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to propose to my mom?”

  “I did. Sort of. I have plans to make an official, more flashy one later today if you and I can come to an agreement here.” Devin pushed the plate of strawberry pinwheels closer to Reilly.

  Reilly picked up a cookie and took a bite.

  That was something, anyway. At least he hadn’t thrown it at him. Yet.

  Devin breathed just a little easier and launched his argument. “I can’t go back in time and change my decision to make my living from the sea. Now, because I’m shooting straight with you, I probably should mention that I’m not sure I would change it if I could time travel. You see, Reilly, I love what I do. The ocean is part of me. It’s such a fascinating, amazing place, and every day offers something new. It’s exciting. Going out on the ocean, diving and snorkeling and fishing, it’s like visiting a new world every single day. I truly believe you will love it, Reilly. I think you’ll love the ocean as much as you love national parks, and maybe even more. I want to share it with you and your mother.”

  “Australia is really far away from Eternity Springs,” Reilly pointed out in a small voice.

  “Yes, it is. It truly is.” Devin paused and took a sip of milk. “I recognized that the distance between Australia and Eternity Springs was one of the main problems facing us, so I set my mind to finding a solution. That brings up to my proposal.” He picked a notebook off the seat of the chair beside them and set it in front of Reilly. It was a three-ring binder with a leather cover. Embossed across the front of the journal were the words Reilly James Murphy’s Caribbean Adventure.

  “I can’t move to Eternity Springs, Reilly, but I can move my business back to Bella Vita Island. It’s a whole lot closer than Australia. When I used to live in Bella Vita, I visited Eternity Springs all the time. Michael and my parents used to visit me a lot too. The Brogans have a home there and so do the Ciceros. People are always going back and forth between Bella Vita and Eternity Springs.”

  “This says Reilly James Murphy. Not Reilly James Stockton.”

  “Well, yes. When I marry your mom, I would like to adopt you. I want very much for you to be my son and carry my name.”

  “Michael and I would be like brothers.”

  “Almost.”

  Reilly ate the rest of his cookie and took a drink of milk. He opened the notebook and began flipping through the pages behind tabs that read Animals of Bella Vita and Caribbean Sea Marine Life and Pirates of the Caribbean. Reilly paused at an illustration of Blackbeard’s frigate, Queen Anne’s Revenge, flying the skull and crossbones. “Pirates?”

  Devin nodded sagely. “It’s not just a ride at Disney.”

  “Cool!”

  “I think we could make it work, Reilly. If you’ll give me your permission to marry your mother and become your dad, I’ll give you my solemn oath that you’ll get to spend plenty of time in Eternity Springs each year.”

  “And Michael can come visit us?”

  “Of course.”

  “He’ll probably want to get away from the babies. Especially if they’re both girls.”

  “Hey, we Murphy men will have to stick together.”

  Then, with his heart in his throat, laying it all on the line, Devin extended his hand. “So, Reilly James Stockton, do we have a deal?”

  Reilly stared at Devin’s
hand. “Two years ago, I asked Santa to bring me a dad.”

  “I know. Merry Christmas, Reilly.”

  The boy took his hand. “Merry Christmas . . . Dad.”

  Devin’s heart took flight.

  The twenty-minute sleigh ride up to a high meadow on Murphy Mountain meadow proved to be just the medicine her patients had needed, Jenna decided as Cam reined in the horses and the sleigh glided to a stop. To a woman, each expectant mother was more relaxed upon arrival than they’d been at the beginning of the ride. Nothing like shared misery and commiseration to ease one’s burden.

  The fathers-to-be had traveled ahead by other means, primarily snowmobiles, and the women arrived at the meadow to find a bonfire burning brightly. Playing with both speed and fire had mellowed the men’s moods too, so everyone was relaxed and happy as hot chocolate and warm apple cider was passed around.

  “It’s a pretty day, isn’t it, Mom?” Reilly asked her.

  “It is. Did you enjoy your snowmobile ride with Mr. Chase?”

  “It was so much fun. Michael and I wanted to go faster but he said maybe next time, because Dr. Lori made him promise six ways to Sunday not to be one bit reckless.”

  “Six ways to Sunday, hmm?” Jenna grinned over the top of her steaming cup of chocolate at her rosy-cheeked, sparkling-eyed son. He was one happy boy today. He’d been happy ever since last week’s wishing tree outing, but today his little light seemed to shine exceptionally bright. Wonder if he snooped and found his stash of Christmas presents?

  “The sky is sure blue, Mom, isn’t it?”

  “It is.”

  “No, look at it! You gotta look at it.”

  The insistence in his voice caused her to follow the path of his pointing finger. Only then did she see the small single-engine plane flying high over the meadow.

  And something fell out of it. Holy cow, are we witnessing a drug drop?

  A minute after the object started falling, a parachute popped. Soon everyone in the meadow had his or her gaze glued to the sky. As each moment ticked by, Jenna was able to identify a bit more. First, she saw that it was a human, not a box. So, not a drug drop. Then she recognized what the figure was wearing. A red suit? With black boots? A snowy white beard?

  “It’s Santa Claus!” Michael Murphy exclaimed.

  Jenna glanced around the group, wondering who had arranged for a visit from Santa. Must have been Cam since he’d put together this sleigh ride. Plus he had a knowing smirk on his face, although Sarah obviously wasn’t in on the surprise. She looked as baffled as Jenna.

  Santa managed a near-perfect landing some fifty yards from the bonfire. At exactly what moment she recognized him, Jenna couldn’t say, but by the time he’d dealt with his chute and somehow turned a backpack into Santa’s bag, her heart began to pound.

  “Ho ho ho,” Santa said, striding toward them, the unmistakable twang of Australia in his tone. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Devin!” Michael protested. “You’re not Santa.” He turned to Reilly and said, “That’s my brother. He’s just dressed up. He’s not the real Santa.”

  Lori reached for her mother’s hand. Emotion cracking in her voice, she said, “He’s here. He came to be with us when they’re born.”

  “I’m not surprised. I don’t care what he said.” Tears rolled down Sarah’s cheeks. “Devin is such a marshmallow when it comes to family.”

  “Ho ho ho. Merry Christmas.” Devin’s cheeks were rosy and his eyes surely twinkled, and while he didn’t pull off the Santa belly, he did find a booming voice when he added, “I hope everyone’s been behaving because I have presents for the good girls and boys. Where’s my helper elf?”

  To Jenna’s surprise, Reilly said, “Here I am, Santa.”

  “Where’d he get that elf hat?” Jenna murmured as her son ran to meet Devin.

  “And ears!” Lori said with a laugh. “Look at the pointed ears.”

  “He was in on this,” Sarah observed. She glanced up at Cam. “You were, too. You dog, you. You didn’t say a word!”

  “You would have worried about the skydive part of his plan,” Cam defended. “You always fret when you know that he’s going to jump out of a plane.”

  “True.” Sarah glanced toward Jenna. “I think it’s a stupid hobby. Why, once—”

  “Gifts!” Devin interrupted loudly. “We have gifts galore.” He opened the bag and fished out two small packages. “Hmm . . . this one appears to be for Baby Turner and this one”—he read the tag—“Baby Brogan.”

  Reilly delivered the gifts to the parents, then ran back for more. “Baby Timberlake and Baby Garrett. Baby Murphy and the Babies Callahan.”

  As Reilly took the gift to the Turners, Lori asked, “Santa, can we open them now or do we have to wait for Christmas?”

  “Whatever you’d like. Feel free to open them now if you wish.”

  He’d brought them each a little koala bear, and Jenna grinned at the chorus of oohs and aahs. Santa started to pull the drawstring on his pack when his little elf said, “Wait, Santa. Isn’t there one more thing in your bag?”

  “Is there?” Santa asked.

  “I hope so,” Reilly said. “Because there’s one very good girl who didn’t get a present.”

  “Oh. Well. Hmm.” Santa made a show of peering into his bag. Then he said, “Aha, elf. It appears that you are right.

  He reached deep into the bag and pulled out a black velvet ring box. Jenna’s heart pounded like reindeer paws on a rooftop as he made a show of reading a tag. “For the love of my life.” He glanced down at Reilly. “I think I’d better deliver this one myself, don’t you?”

  “Yep, sure do, Santa.”

  Finally for the first time since his arrival, Devin met Jenna’s gaze and held it. He walked slowly toward her and went down on one knee. “Jenna Stockton, my love, my heart. Will you marry me?

  It was romance and magic and Eternity Springs. It was perfect. “Yes, Devin Murphy. Of course I’ll marry you. You’re my Christmas wish.”

  He slipped a beautiful solitaire diamond ring on her finger, and his mouth had just touched hers in a kiss when his mother interrupted the moment. “I hate to do this, but Devin, I need to borrow your fiancée. It appears that my water just broke.”

  With his black belt discarded and his red jacket unbuttoned to reveal a plain white T-shirt, an unkempt Santa Claus paced the hospital waiting room. What a crazy day and night this had been.

  His mother might have kicked things off, but it hadn’t stopped there. They’d no sooner got her down off the mountain and settled into a room at the clinic than the

  same thing happened to Shannon Garrett. After that, it was like dominoes. All six women . . . every last one of them . . . went into labor.

  Devin wondered just what his father had put in that hot chocolate he served up on the mountain.

  With so many patients involved, it was all hands on deck at the clinic. But all the rush and hurry quickly became hurry up and wait. Hours crawled by in a waiting room packed with friends and families. Devin was excited for his sister and parents and the other expectant couples, truly he was. However, would it have hurt any of them to hold things off for just a couple of hours? He’d barely had the chance to kiss his fiancée, much less share a proper hello.

  He visited with the Timberlakes and Celeste and the Chamber of Commerce members who stopped by for updates on the big Maternity Springs contest. He pillowed Michael’s head in his lap and Reilly’s against his chest as both boys slept. At one point during the long night, his soon-to-be son looked up at him and said, “Don’t worry, Dad. Sometimes Mom’s work hours stink, but you’ll get used to it. And from now one, we’ll have each other.”

  Yes, from now on, they’d have each other.

  Dawn the following morning broke on six inches of new snow. Devin stood at a waiting room window watching a new day dawn over Eternity Springs, his heart full of quiet anticipation. So much to look forward to. So much to be grateful for.

  His sister
and his niece were born within half an hour of each other.

  It was noon before he made it home and got the boys settled and fell into bed for a much needed nap. When he heard the phone ring, he almost didn’t answer it.

  What phone was that, anyway? He lifted his head from his pillow. His Santa pants that he’d left pooled in the middle of Jenna’s bedroom floor were ringing. Why were his pants ringing? He glanced at the bedside table where his phone silently lay.

  But his Santa pants were ringing.

  Devin stretched out an arm, snagged the red velvet, and tugged it toward him. Damned if there wasn’t a phone in the pocket. A flip phone.

  He flipped it and cautiously brought it to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Santa, this is Reilly from Nashville again, only this Christmas I’m Reilly from Eternity Springs and next Christmas I’ll be Reilly from Bella Vita Isle.”

  His smile as bright as sunlight on snowfall, Devin said, “Hello, Reilly from Eternity Springs.”

  “I have another Christmas wish for you, Santa. You did so good bringing me a dad that I figured I’d better get this on record. My poor best friend Michael got stuck with two girls today.”

  “I heard about that.”

  “Two girls! It worries me. Santa, if you have any pull in the baby department, could you see about getting my family a boy?”

  About the Author

  Emily March is the New York Times, Publishers Weekly, and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels, including the critically acclaimed Eternity Springs series. Publishers Weekly calls March a "master of delightful banter," and her heartwarming, emotionally charged stories have been named to Best of the Year lists by Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, and Romance Writers of America. A graduate of

  Texas A&M University, Emily is an avid fan of Aggie sports and her recipe for jalapeño relish has made her a tailgating legend.